I did not stop running until I was two blocks from the Countess’ house, and it was only then that I tasted the full flavor of the bitter, not unpleasant horehound. It was a taste that belonged exclusively to Chichester and the summertime, and it made me a little nostalgic. Although I realized that I had had a narrow escape and that I must henceforth be troubled by the knowledge that I might meet Mrs. Prather again round any corner and the next time might not be alone, this return of the past through the candy, despite my homesickness, restored my eagerness to continue the present time, and I was grateful for the old lady’s errand that had carried her down Dartmouth Street in time to save me from a craven retreat.